


Get Out Of My Home, Akechi

by kanecantdie



Category: Persona 5
Genre: M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Self-Denial, implied Teddie - Freeform, just takes place somewhere vaguely in the middle of the plot, like this boy is one thirsty tree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 22:29:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13750509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanecantdie/pseuds/kanecantdie
Summary: Akechi keeps coming to Leblanc, Akira’s getting kind of sick of it, and the message just isn’t getting across.A weird Akechi/Akira thing.





	Get Out Of My Home, Akechi

“Thank you for the coffee.” Akechi gives a warm smile as he sets down his cup and slides it forward a little. “It was as amazing as always.”

Akira leans his hip against the counter and, in the most Akira-esque monotone vitriol, attempts to reiterate his point. “That’s nice. Now get out of my home, Akechi.”

Like always, Akechi deflects the blow with a light chuckle, even if he does obey and rise from his seat. “I suppose I should be going now.” He says, fixing his tie as he stands up. The two meet eyes for a second, and Akira tries his best to shoot deadly lasers from his pupils and turn Akechi to ash there and then. It doesn’t work; Akechi walks out alive. 

“Akechi. Your gloves.” Akira calls out despite himself. Letting the jazzy little detective wander home and realize he had forgotten his gloves would have been the most minuscule and petty way to enact revenge, but something inside of Akira couldn’t bear to have to look at them for longer than he had to.

Nodding his head in gratitude, Akechi turns around and gingerly lifts a pair of gloves off the counter. Why is he always like that? Does he have to show how graceful and beautiful he is all the time? Everyone already knows. “Thank you, Akira. Farewell.” He says, in the most articulate and gentle tone possible. Akira’s heart skips a beat. Out of rage. It’s a palpitation from stress and anger.

“Yes, now goodbye forever.” Akira waves him out before letting a tired sigh escape from his lips, his body falling forward and crumpling against the counter as the grumbling in his chest crescendos. He buries his head in his arms and tries to let the feelings fall out of him too. All these years, all those people he’s talked to, every mask he’s put on, every feeling he’s ever felt, and he can’t keep it together now? What’s so special about Akechi?!

“Something on your mind, Joker?”

“What?” Akira’s spine snaps back into position, and he’s suddenly hyper aware of every little movement he makes. In a desperate attempt to maintain his cool, he flips around and shoves his hands into a sink full of dishes, scrubbing away at old plates the way he wishes he could scrub off the slight red blush seeping out onto his face. “Why do you ask?” 

“Well, you’re always so bland and emotionless that when you do emote, it’s super obvious!” Akira glances over as Morgana struts over to the counter and hops up next to where Akechi had just been sitting, eyeing up the puddle of brackish coffee at the bottom of the mug. Akira plucks it away and sets it next to the other dirty dishes.

“That’s rude, Morgana.” 

“Hehe, you know I wouldn’t have you any other way~!” 

“What’re you doing down here anyways? You know you’re not supposed to be down here during hours. Food safety violation.” Akira taps the little black cat on the nose as he reminds him that he’s sitting where people are supposed to be eating, and some people don’t appreciate cat butt all over their table.

“Come on, Joker, cut me some slack. The place is dead and Boss is out on a supply run.” Morgana plops down on his side, head cocked up to watch Akira do adult-y job things, like wipe a spotless counter top off to keep his mind off of something or sort beans better than he can sort his own thoughts. “You know you can tell me anything, Joker! After all, who would I even tell? I’m a cat.”

“I thought you didn’t like being called a cat.” Akira smiles to himself. Morgana likes playing those get-out-of-jail-free cards like that, but this time it doesn’t quite work out. “You could tell Ryuji. Or Ann. Or Makoto. Futaba, perhaps. She’d have a field-day with this…” He idly stirs the coffee stick in Akechi’s used cup. The leftover muck stirs around and mixes with the separate layer of creamer on top, turning the liquid same milky brown color as Akechi’s soft eyes-- oh no. He’s lost in a set of dreamy eyes. This is worse than Akira had previously thought. With a sudden air of urgency, he whips around and stares at Morgana with eyes wide. Akechi’s cup gets bumped in the commotion, spinning idly for a second before falling over and dribbling old coffee onto the floor.

“What was that for?” Morgana asks with a victimizing smirk. 

Akira kneels down to mop up the mess, letting out a sigh as he does so. “It’s Akechi.”

“You like him?”

Shit. “Don’t say it like that!” He stands back up and tries not to look surprised that it wasn’t a surprise. Key-word here ‘try’, as he fails to do so. Morgana chuckles to himself at this, amused by the rare break in Akira’s usually perfect cool-guy visage. “No, the problem isn’t that I like him! It’s that I hate his guts and I don’t trust him. He keeps coming here every day, Morgana. What if he’s onto us? He’s a detective after all.”

“Y’know, Joker. I once met a blonde boy in a bear suit. We kept meeting and I kept trying to give him the shake, but one day I found out he liked me.” Morgana flips onto his back and looks over at Joker upside-down. His frown almost looks like a smile from that angle. “What if, Joker… What if he comes here, because he likes you?”

Just as Akira opens his mouth to tell Morgana how much of a stupid child he’s being, the front door swings open and Sojiro saunters in, face hidden by a stack of boxes and bags he’s clinging on to with his old man arms. Morgana hops off the counter and scampers over to the stairs, eager to avoid Sojiro’s wrath. “Think about it, Joker!” Morgana calls out as he flies up the stairs to Akira’s room.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to let the cat muck around in the kitchen? This isn’t a petting zoo.” The scolding isn’t really what Akira needs right now, but Sojiro dishes it out anyway. “If I had half a mind, I’d send you packing on the streets of Tokyo. God forbid you get one of those health inspectors dragged in here or something.”

Akira scratches at the back of his hair and musters up all his emotional energy to put on a straight face. “Sorry, Sojiro. I didn’t notice him-- I was doing the dishes.”

“It’s whatever, kid.” Sojiro just sighs and dumps a plethora of different curry ingredients onto the counter. “Just put these away for your uncle and we’ll call it even.”

“Gotcha.” Akira nods and grabs one of the bags, hoisting it over to their pantry. As he puts away various spices and vegetables, he can’t help but let his mind mull over what Morgana was saying before he got interrupted. 

There was absolutely, definitely, no way in hell that Akira Kurusu was at all attracted to Goro Akechi in any way, shape, or form. With that stupid suit he wears everyday and his ugly 2010 haircut and that goddamn tie with those weird gloves-- there’s just no way. The way Akechi looks up at him, stars in his eyes and the reflection of Akira the center of the universe. The warm feeling Akira felt when he handed him the coffee-- no, he was just burning his hand on the hot cup. It was all so stupid. God, he hates it. He’s practically throwing the vegetables into the pantry at this point. His fingernails dig into the skin of a potato, and the flesh that slides under his nails pisses him off even more.

“Uhh, kid?” Sojiro nudges Akira’s shoulder to get his attention, but the touch makes him jump five feet in the air. The carrots he’s holding fly in every direction and Akira falls against the counter with his hands in his hair. Sojiro, of course, raises both eyebrows in surprise. This was definitely a new side of Akira he hasn’t seen before. “Woah, woah! What’s gotten into you all of the sudden?”

Akira just brushes the hair out of his eyes, not even trying to get his breathing under control. “I think I’m losing it, Sojiro.”


End file.
